


What He Made Of Me

by MiladyPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bondage, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, One Shot, Prostate Massage, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 15:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyPheonix/pseuds/MiladyPheonix
Summary: Sherlock is ACE but fascinated by John, all of John.





	What He Made Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> A smutty smutty one shot, originally was gonna be part of my smutcember posting on Tumblr but I didn't have the nerve. Enjoy.

John had slung a towel around his waist and was quickly making tea to take upstairs, Sherlock would still be asleep for hours as they’d finished a case yesterday so he had a time to start a blog post before Mr Grammar descended on his laptop. He would have some tea, dress, draft a blog post and get some house work done while there was still peace and quiet, he would have to be careful what he cleaned up if he wanted to maintain the peace and quiet but while Sherlock slept John would make productive use of the time.

Sherlock had heard John in the bathroom, it had been a quick shower so he knew John would head upstairs in a towel rather than loaf around and air dry in his dressing gown. Now though it sounded like John was making tea, but he would be in a towel… or had Sherlock miscalculated. He slowly slid out of bed. A glance into the bathroom showed a towel missing from the rack and his ears told him the kettle had just gone off. He leaned around the kitchen door to confirm his hypothesis and groan silently. John’s scar was flushed red from the hot water and drops intermittently fell from his hair to trail down his spine. Sherlock wanted to lick them away, they touched _His_ John, they made him shiver, it wasn’t fair. He moved behind John and gently touched the exit wound in his shoulder, John had started at his touch but stilled when he spoke “Badly infected but you have other scars" He slid a finger along a curved scar on John's ribs.

Sherlock had shocked the hell out of him and now seemed to be cataloguing his scars, good luck to him. John had almost as many as Sherlock himself. “Knife I think, was drunk at the time. A near miss, I was lucky" He explained as a cold finger tip caressed his skin. He didn’t remember what happened and swallowed his nerves as Sherlock could probably answer that old question… would he want to see Every scar on John’s body?

“Glass, not a knife. You fell through door judging by the angle. And it was definitely glass going by the ragged edge where it dragged, presumably on some time of safety or sun-shield adhesive film" John’s skin was warm from the shower and Sherlock couldn’t remove his hand. His eyes trailed down to John’s hips where the towel had drooped and a thin white scar crested John's right buttock. “You were caned, as a child" He rested a hand over the mark and John huffed a resigned sigh.

“I was a bit of a shit at school, Mr Powell wasn’t shy to point it out. Are you going to seriously deduce every scar right here in the kitchen" John rolled his eyes as Sherlock eased the towel off him and dropped it on the floor. He really should tell him off but had learned it was easier to just let the madman get things out of his system at least he had an answer for the scar on his ribs. John was wondering how long this would take when Sherlock breath ghosted down his spine and the man dropped to a knee behind him, a warm heat on the back of his legs.

Sherlock mentally tallied the three or four scars on John’s bum and thighs from what was clearly a set of very strong strikes. He continued down John’s legs and a patch of scaring drew his attention and his fingers which he found hadn’t left John’s body at all since that first tough. “Bicycle fall, ill cared for injury” but the missing toe nail on John’s left foot was more intriguing.

“Motorcycle” John explained quickly. He had given a wordless agreement on the previous one. The motorcycle accident in high school that cost him the baby toe nail had almost cost him his foot but he had already been a first aider by then. He was leaning on the counter top, his body responding to the gentle touch as his mind responded to Sherlock’s relentless focus. “Bullet grazed in basic training" He waved his right arm at Sherlock hoping to temp him off his knees with more data then gasped as warm silk pressed along the length of his body and forced him against the counter.

Sherlock had no personal interest in sex to speak of but he was personally very interested in John Watson. He inspected the graze scar and cradled John’s arms in his own to see the scars on John’s hands from medical school and the army. He noticed John was grinding slightly against the counter, obviously a subconscious action. Leaning over John’s shoulder he lifted his right hand to the entry wound in John’s shoulder and the left to… “Appendectomy, fairly recent, the small incision indicates… while I was away" Sherlock trailed into silence and John leaned into him suddenly breathing quickly.

John had to lean against Sherlock or he would just fall over, it had clearly been too long, those hands and that voice had turned his brain and his knees to mush. Sherlock’s hands had met over his belly, pressing him against the body behind him before trailing back up towards his chest. The damn kitchen cupboards provided just enough friction to drive him crazy and he keened under his breath as his chest burned. He dropped his head as he saw Sherlock had his nipples between finger and thumbs, the pain radiated heat through his chest which sank as pressure into his belly. John knew Sherlock had no interest in sex so what the hell was going on. Was this some kind of experiment, it was an amazing experiment. John gave a cry as pinches turned to twisting. Sherlock was grinding his nipples between thumbs and knuckles and he now knew he was going to cum, right here in the kitchen caught naked between Sherlock's dressing gown and the damn worktop. John gasped and panted as he ground between the cupboard and Sherlock’s body.

He eased back a bit to give John space to reach his cock. “Cum for me John, you look so amazing. Please cum for me" He watched John desperately clutch and jerk before his muscles locked up in orgasm and Sherlock had to hold him upright. Satisfied with the result Sherlock eased John into a kitchen chair and cleaned up with paper towel that he pocketed for future experiments.

“What was that?!” John asked later. “You don’t do the sex thing, that’s fine but I don’t understand was that an experiment or what" John had recovered and dressed but now needed answers after he had come apart in the kitchen against his asexual flatmate. Sherlock had just smiled at him. “If you want to.. experiment on me like that it’s fine, it all fine just at home only ok" Sherlock's smile had broadened, John was so screwed.

He needed to repeat the results and test his hypothesis further so when he heard John masturbating in the shower one evening he had stripped and slipped in behind him. John had been too far gone to complain so Sherlock gently began pinching one nipple then the other as John grew more frantic for release. Sherlock felt his ears burn as John had moaned his name, John was so close. “You need it, could you need me John” He murmured over the falling water and bit down savagely into John’s ruined shoulder smiling as John fell over the edge cumming as he called Sherlock’s name. He held John upright as he recovered and chuckled over John's question of if the data was good. “Always my John"

Sherlock had made him cum twice now, it was amazing but could it get out of hand… he almost hoped so. It could go on for months for all John cared because for all that he wasn’t interested in sex itself Sherlock was an attentive and caring partner in the experiments. He never just abandoned John after he had cum and always cleaned him up carefully afterwards.

A few weeks later a pair of nipple clamps landed in his lap, small metal clamps with black latex caps. “I'd like my hands free to continue the experiment and these will provide proper stimulation. You respond beautifully to pain, do you know that?” Sherlock had almost purred as he had followed the clamps, climbing into John’s lap. John swallowed his surprise and realised Sherlock had been right, the pain of his nipples and the bite had been what pushed him over the edge each and every time. Sherlock had run this tests a few times and John had only protested the once as he had been about to leave for work, Sherlock had backed off at immediately.

Sherlock stripped John efficiently to the waist and smiled as his nipples tighten in anticipation. He settled his groin against John hardening cock and slowing worked John’s nipples in his fingers before fixing the clamps to the reddened buds. John had hissed and thrust but Sherlock only let him do so for a few minutes before lifting his weight off of John lap and flicking quickly at the tormented flesh on John’s chest. John cried out and writhed up for more friction which Sherlock denied him. He flicked and twisted the clamps until John was clawing at his trousers “I’m fairly sure by now that you can cum from this alone John, try for me. Please cum for me my John" Sherlock continued his ministrations before leaning over and sinking his teeth into the flesh he had brutalized in the shower ages ago. Watching John cum untouched in his trousers was glorious and Sherlock slipped the clamps off as he lapped at the bite abraded skin, his own mark beside the bullets ruin. “Flawless, so perfect. God John, you’re so perfect" He was incapable of sexual arousal but he felt as mentally and emotionally stimulated as if he'd just cum himself.

John caught his breath and clung to Sherlock, he’d cum in his pants like a teenager from the pain and stimulation. John wasn’t sure if this was the best experiment ever or the sickest one Sherlock had ever run. The clamps vanished into Sherlock’s pocket and John fought disappointment, he would have like to keep them himself.

The next one took place at a club Sherlock knew, it had all been discussed. Sherlock wanted to see how John responded to oral stimulation, a blow job, and John didn’t even raise an eyebrow when a dark haired young man walked into their private room. The rules were explained, everyone kept their hands to themselves and the faster John came the better, wet heat took him to the root and he gripped the back of the couch to avoid grabbing the dark curls in his lap. “Oh he’s good isn’t he” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re enjoying your rent-boy” John nodded frantically and keened as his cock slid some how deeper into the tight warmth. “Have I found you a talented whore my John?" By now John could barely hear Sherlock over his own thunderous pulse "But you’re not quite there yet are you?" “Please, oh god Please Sherlock. Please help me. Oh god”

John begged incoherently as he thrust mindlessly, the curls confused him, they looked like Sherlock’s but the man himself leaned happily over John’s nude form on the couch. He was so close but just not getting there. He felt his eyes fill in desperation and Sherlock called a stop to the torment between his legs. “You’re very good, but I'd like you to stop and just stay there while I show you how it’s done" He slid his hands slowly down John’s chest which arched into his touch, gripping and pulling John’s nipples he was pleased to see John kept his hands on the back of the couch. He leaned over John’s shoulder and pulled a nipple into his mouth tasting sweat and hearing a sharp cry. Sucking hard he twisted John’s other nipple as he bit down on the flesh between his teeth. John convulsed and came over the face between his legs. John was sure he blacked out for a second but a gentle voice crooned him back to consciousness. “John, John look at the picture you made for me. Perfect John, you’re an artist. My masterpiece" Sherlock was rambling as John took in the cum splattered face before him. He was Sherlock’s masterpiece but what had Sherlock made of him.

Sherlock had pushed the Only At Home rule once, he had cornered John at the yard one morning after a long case, shoved his thigh between John’s legs and roamed under his shirt before John had punched him. He'd hit him hard enough to jar him but not done any damage. Sherlock stammered apologies and had paled at the blow saying he'd gotten carried away and had waited until they had gotten home to repeat his apology and ask John’s forgiveness.

John had forgiven him as it had been an intense case but there had been no play until that evening when John had peeled his shirt off and climbed into Sherlock’s lap, it was the first time he had ever initiated.

The clamps had eventually been upgraded to a more complicated heavier metal with a chain strung between them. They’d considered vacuum but it had not appealed to John at all who liked the friction and pressure rather. Prostate play was a go though as John had gone off like a rocket after their negotiations had resulted in a slender vibrating toy and a desperate need for better sound proofing.

John had not been a fan of bondage previous but he felt safe with Sherlock and as it happened as long as he was not actually tied down or onto anything it aroused him immensely. One memorable weekend away saw broad silk wrapped around both of John’s hands “Why not cuffs then?” He had queried as Sherlock wove the fabric around his clenched fists. “You’re a doctor John, precious hands" was the smiling response before Sherlock guided him onto his knees to face the headboard. Cold fingers pebbled his nipples before they were clamped, weights on the clamps dragged at his flesh and he gasped at the new sensation. “Oh god, Sherlock" He rocked back into the finger prepping him for the toy and the motion caused the weights to swing. “Oh god, Sherlock I’m not going to last" He warned as he rocked between the fingers, now two, inside him and the swinging clamps.

Sherlock quickly removed the weighted clamps before holding two crocodile tooth clips for approval. “Let me get the toy in place, I can’t wait to hear you scream" John was sucking in fast breaths as Sherlock slid the cool silicon inside him and leaned against it to hold it in place. He had screamed already this weekend as the play had varied from ice to wax, with clamps or without, the crop, teeth anything they could think of. Cold metal teased hot flesh and then pain flared before the vibration started on his prostate. John screamed at the sensations and clenched his bound fists.

As long as John's hands stayed on the headboard Sherlock knew he was okay, he watched John scream and rock on the bed before eventually collapsing as his hips twitched in orgasm. He removed the toy and eased off the clamps as he rolled John onto his side to recover. He marvelled at how far they had come from that fateful cup of tea and John's extraordinary endurance of the two days.

He’d not told John they had a whole week as he wanted John to have time to relax and have a holiday. He had packed John’s laptop and his own as well but for now he cleaned John up in a nice hot bath and curled around him in bed as he recovered, they had all the time in the world.


End file.
